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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23348722">Day Dreaming</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xayah_Haner/pseuds/Xayah_Haner'>Xayah_Haner</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Silent Witness (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 04:27:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,845</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23348722</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xayah_Haner/pseuds/Xayah_Haner</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Wisty has lost everything, kicked off the most hard hitting case she ever experienced when her best friend is murdered and she's the forensic that showed up at the scene.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Day Dreaming</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Cold resonated through the air, the small draft at the back of the room left her covered in goose bumps. As she twitched into a small shiver, the aluminium chair she sat on scraped across the floor. The noise echoed and did nothing for the fact she was already on edge. Wisty gave into her exhaustion, and lay her head against the table, closing her eyes to the memories she’d never forget. Guilt welled up in her chest, weighing down her throat every time she went to inhale.<br/>
The detective watched her through the two-way mirror. Between watching her, he re-read his report so far. He had no doubt she wasn’t tampering with evidence, but questioning was questioning. Despite her being in a state of instability, she was somehow still fighting to be allowed back on the case, and the detective knew her work would still be perfect. Waking to the slam of the door, Wisty shot bolt upright, gasping for air.<br/>
“Morning, sleeping beauty,” Jack laughed, placing coffee in front of Wisty before taking a seat opposite her.<br/>
“Oh piss off Jack,” She retorted, lightly chuckling to herself, before aimlessly staring at each grain of sugar she poured into her coffee.<br/>
Spaced out wasn’t anywhere near a way to describe how she had been lately. Silence fell between the two, and Wisty stared at the steam emanating from the paper cup.<br/>
“So, where’s Chris? Because if I’m not getting put on this case then I don’t see why I’m here and I’m going home,” she announced to Jack, knowing fully that Chris could hear everything she was saying.<br/>
Unsure whether it was an empty threat or not, he wasn’t prepared to risk her taking off. Impatiently bursting through the door, Chris took the seat next to Jack and slammed what he had gathered of a report on the table.<br/>
“Am I supposed to be impressed?” she asked.<br/>
Jack sniggered, going completely straight faced when Chris glared at him. Wisty had already lost interest in anything he had to say, and droned out his voice as she inspected the room. Scouring her surroundings from the pale blue walls to the aluminium chairs and table, to the slightly creased edges of Chris’ report, no doubt where he had nervously gripped at it. Wisty had a thing for reading people. Often, it led to her coming across as abrupt and completely insensitive.<br/>
“So, all you’ve done is bring me here to waste time on finding the fucking murderer? And you wonder why I am desperate to be put back on the case, what the fuck is your problem Chris?” Wisty shoved the chair back under the table with enough force to knock the table forward.<br/>
After grabbing her coffee and throwing the door open, she stormed through to the underground car park. Her footsteps were that heavy they almost hurt, the sound of each step echoed through the car park as she headed over to hers and sprawled into the driver’s seat. Her throat went tight, the pain radiated through her chest. Jack, concerned about the way she left, followed behind. Approaching her car, muffled erratic breaths seeped out the window, and cigarette smoke slowly streamed out. He opened her driver’s side door, to see her sprawled over the wheel, pained cries jerked her ribs.<br/>
“Hey, Wisty.” Jack’s voice whispered, as he ran his hand down her back, the hand made her jump, and she began to look for tissue.<br/>
Wiping her eyes and nose, she noticed he’d crouched to see her. She took another drag of her cigarette and tried to calm down.<br/>
“You’re not allowed to do that in here, you know,” he smirked, she let out a small chuckle.<br/>
He placed his hand on her face to wipe a stray tear. She closed her eyes to the warmth of his hand, slightly leaning into it, and deeply exhaling. He watched as her chest fell, looking up to meet her eyes, she looked back deeply into his. They crept closer to each other, she swung her legs out of the car so she sat sideways. He shifted closer laying a hand on her thigh. A rush flowed through them both. Their faces inched closer. Wisty placed her hand on the back of his neck running her fingers through his hair.<br/>
“Jack?” Wisty mumbled, feeling his breath on her face, their lips about to touch.<br/>
He pushed his hands up her thighs, holding them round her hip, brushing the front of her hip bone with his thumb. He pushed forward, tilting his head slightly, pushing their lips together. The moment they touched, she shuffled closer to him. He wrapped her arms round his neck, not breaking the kiss, and pulled her forward. His hands kept her up, resting under her thighs. He pulled away to open the back of the car, Wisty trailed her lips down his neck while he closed the driver’s door. Attempting to lay her in the back became more like dropping her. Jack shut the door, and climbed over her, pushing her leg round him to push into her.<br/>
She let out a quiet moan before pulling him closer and kissing him. He pushed into her again, running his hand along her collar bone, then trailing down, pulling up at the hem of her top. She arched off the seat so he could pull it off. He smirked a little, after looking at her. Running his fingers over the top of her breast that was left revealed over her bra. She unbuttoned his shirt, and he let the sleeves fall behind him. Her fingers trailed down the front of his body, following outlines in his muscular build. Running along his hip bone, Wisty’s fingers slipped behind the top of his jeans. He moaned as she reached further down, running her fingertips along what she could reach of him. Falling forward, he kissed down her neck, trailing down her chest to her hips.<br/>
His breath hit her hips, going cold over the small patches of saliva left after his kisses. He fumbled with the button on her jeans, before pulling the zip down and trying to take them off. As he began to pull at her jeans, Wisty leant up and sat against the door. Jack sat up and pulled her over him, so that she was straddling him. Guiding her hips as they started to kiss again. Grinding on him, she could feel the outline of him under his jeans. Jack cupped his hand over her breast, slowly slipping his hand under her bra. His hand was cold against her, but she didn’t care. He was all she wanted in that moment. He grabbed her hair at the back and held her close, as they carried on grinding. As they caressed each other’s skin, not breaking their kiss, Jack felt around her back to undo her bra. Just as he found it, there was a knock on the window.<br/>
Both jumped, Wisty scrambled off Jack, grabbing the nearest thing to cover herself. It was Chris. Jack wound down the window.<br/>
“Sorry to interrupt you two, you looked busy, but we got the suspect a couple hours ago. Caught him trying to get back into the scene. Guy folded like a cheap suit trying to cut a deal when we arrested him. Says it was a robbery gone wrong, some weird sort of dare. Thought you’d want to know it is why I got you here. Doesn’t sound anything like we profiled but the guy knows unreleased details.”<br/>
Wisty half ignored most of what Chris had to say, instead chucked on Jack’s shirt she had used to cover herself and raced back into the building. Momentum near made her fall into the interrogation room.<br/>
“Get out,” she muttered to the officer in there.<br/>
“I said leave!” she screamed at her.<br/>
The officer headed around her, and awkwardly exited. Wisty jammed the door with a chair and stood at the glass of the two-way mirror. Holding her hand up to the glass she stared through to who they’d arrested.<br/>
Wisty’s knees dropped under the gravity of what was happening. At least they closed the case but it just didn’t feel right, she knew a huge part of her was missing but it felt wrong in a different way. How could it be over? It could never be over, not really she thought. How? Why? A few screams of anger and pain could be heard muffled by the door. Hysterical crying, panic attack, Wisty punched the wall a few times. Nothing helped.<br/>
The door finally gave way to Chris’ kicking. They found Wisty on the floor, her face streaked and bright red. Her hand bleeding from punching the wall. Standing her up, Jack pulled her arm around him and walked her out of the room. As they hit the corridor Wisty made a break for the interrogation room, storming in.<br/>
“YOU BASTARD, HOW COULD YOU? YOU SHIT. YOU TOOK EVERYTHING FROM ME, HIM FROM ME” she screamed.<br/>
Jack and Chris hauled her from the room despite the fight she put up.<br/>
“Take her home,” Chris barked.<br/>
Jack led her to his car, Wisty was out of fight as soon as they got her away from him. She just silently, blankly stared at the ground as she got steered by Jack. She slumped into the passenger seat and sighed. Neither exchanged a word the entire drive, Wisty was preoccupied and Jack couldn’t find the words to say if there even were. She deserved the shot at the guy who did this, she was far tamer than he expected her to be in there. He pulled onto her drive, and she muddled for keys. Her flat was cold, Wisty got changed and gave the shirt back, luckily for him, Chris had a jumper.<br/>
She switched on a small lamp in the living room and lit a few candles.<br/>
“Lights broken” she muttered when Jack walked in.<br/>
Rooting herself into the sofa, pulling her duvet over her lap she curled up.<br/>
“Help yourself to anything in the kitchen,” She said.<br/>
Jack wondered over, grabbing two mugs and brewing up for them. He found some biscuits and brought them over with him. Wisty took a small sip of her brew, mumbled a thank you and went silent again.<br/>
“Let me take a look at your hand” Jack said, pulling her hand to him.<br/>
She’d bruised and grazed it but nothing was broken. He did notice, however, the deep scars fresh and old lining her arm. Some cuts still scabbed, brand new. His heart sank. Pulling the duvet over himself he pulled her close, eventually spooning her on the sofa. He ran his hand through her hair gently. Wisty gazed emptily at whatever was in front of her. But for a moment took in what was happening, he was warm, soft, seemingly caring. Just for that moment she felt a little less alone. Slightly less like she was drowning, a gasp for air to keep her going a bit longer.</p>
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